"A wyrm in Chemois?" Siverly asked, his voice immediately accusatory.

Irene opened her mouth to speak up for herself, but it was the Commander who spoke up first, coming to her defense before any misunderstandings could arise.

"Further north, in their normal territory," Henry explained. "Where Irene's ancestors came from. She experienced one on her journey last winter."

Siverly corrected his assumption by training his expression, and then he began to step forward and circle the mage, piquing his interest immediately.

"Why is it always the two of you in these situations?" the mage wondered as he sized up the two knights.

While Henry had been the most entertainment a mage could ask for, Irene was getting up there. He heard of her poisoning through the arrow as a child and what she did in battle. Then she came down from winterization and was the one who had gotten hurt twice.

The two knights glanced at one another, not realizing until that point that this was something they had in common. Perhaps they were seen as reckless by some, but to themselves, they were dutiful and did whatever it took for a positive outcome for the knighthood or whoever needed their protection.

Since the knights were silent, Siverly continued; he finally found something interesting enough to keep talking.

"Last winter, you say?" he wondered. "How would you know about the wyrm's magic if you are not a magic user yourself?"

And Siverly knew as much because he could feel within her that she was entirely devoid of magic. It was something that had bothered him about the Commander from the moment he met the man. There was a trace of magic within him, and only recently did he figure out the truth.

"Because my father found me wandering through a snowstorm with little supplies and having ditched my horse to try and return to the wyrm who had put a spell on me in the first place," she explained. "Apparently, I willingly sat and made myself a target for this magical beast. None of this I remember. My father also recalls a particular glow in my eyes before he knocked me out and brought me to safety. On the way back to Chemois, my nose and fingers peeled because of how irresponsible I was in the freezing cold. Does that sound like the way I normally behave?"

"While knights are some of the most irresponsible people with themselves, I suppose that is not the knight I've grown to understand," Siverly relented. "Now sit down so I can see if there is a traceable spell put upon you. I can't promise anything, but I'll put a protective counter over you regardless."

Since Siverly was gesturing for Irene to sit at one of the small chairs in the room, she obeyed him. He seemed impassioned about the wyrm. The tiredness they witnessed upon their arrival was long forgotten.

In the meantime, the mage went to the table containing a haphazard collection of tools, bottles, mana stones, books, and random pieces of paper until he found what he needed to. To both knights' surprise, Siverly turned towards them with a small blade in his hands.

"Will you please cut your hand for me, dame?" Siverly asked.

Irene thought nothing of it and started to reach for the knife. The ways of mages were beyond her understanding, but if it would help her get to the bottom of the wyrm issue, what was a little bit of pain?

"What!?"

A hand stopped Irene from retrieving the blade, and she was surprised to see the Commander wearing a dark expression as he blocked her hand with his, but the expression was directed towards Siverly. She felt strangely honored that he was being protective of her and tried to push the thought or the elicited feeling far from her.

"Is that necessary?" Henry asked. "Why does she have to get hurt for you to find a spell on her?"

"That's because mages have natural mana pathways in their body, so if a spell is attached to them, you can simply look at the purity of their mana," Siverly explained, matter-of-factly. "Regular humans, on the other hand, only have one thing that flows in their body, and to have a spell that was strong enough to control her in its entirety, it would have to have flowed through her blood. It will be the best way to test whether or not there is lingering magic within her."

The Commander seemed divided at that and opened his mouth to object.

However, Irene stood up and took the small blade from Siverly. In one quick movement, her left palm was pooling with a little bit of blood. Her reddish eyebrows raised at the Commander as she handed back the knife to Siverly, who was pleased by Irene's defiance.

"What's a bit of blood?" Irene asked as she closed her hand, making sure none of the blood fell out. She didn't know how much Siverly needed.

"I don't like to see my knights in pain," he persisted.

"Right," she responded. "Your knights. But do I look in pain, Commander? We both know I can handle this much."

As much as he seemed to want to object, the Commander kept his mouth shut, but the displeased expression didn't leave his face as he stood back to watch the rest of the process.

He himself didn't know why he was feeling so protective. Did he feel bad because she got hurt on his behalf before? Twice. He was feeling frustrated for a reason beyond his understanding and decided to push it away, dismissing it as his desire for his knights to have everything they needed and not face unnecessary strife.

Since the two were finished bickering, Siverly spun up a small magical circle containing symbols Irene didn't recognize, but the process was familiar to what she had witnessed mages do before.

However, unlike before, the circle was turned on its side and looked more like a bowl as it came into a more solid form. Siverly then turned Irene's hand and dripped her blood inside of it.

The bowl was then closed, and it went up in smoke, taking her blood and all the magic with it until there was nothing left.

"Not a bit of anything attached to you as far as I can tell," Siverly admitted. "Although I will cast a protection spell and imbue it into your blade. That way, if you're ever fighting something like a wyrm, its magic won't affect you."

"Well, that's a relief then," Irene admitted. "I appreciate your help, Siverly."

Meanwhile, as Siverly cast a new spell and grabbed the handle of Irene's sword, the Commander had found a strip of bandage and a cloth. He was sure to wipe the blood off her hand before tightly wrapping her palm.

When he was satisfied with the wrap job, he tore the material and knotted it in place.

"It shouldn't feel different," Siverly explained. "But now I'm finished, so I'm going to return to the upper level and go back to sleep."

As abruptly as their interaction started, it seemed to end.

Irene realized the Commander was walking quickly after they bid the mage goodbye, and they exited the infirmary.

"Are you upset about something?" she asked, unable to help herself.

The Commander paused for a moment and seemed to contemplate it. Was he?

But his lack of an answer caused her to continue.

"If you are, would you like to blow off some steam?" she asked, indicating they could have a spar.

To her surprise, he turned to the side so he could meet her gaze.

"Better not," he responded, a faint smirk gracing his lips. "Your hand needs to heal."

With that, their time together that day was over. She was left feeling a little upset that he had shut her out when she had been so open with him that day.

Men, rather, the Commander was beyond her understanding.